By Elliot Worsell
ALTHOUGH it would be a stretch to call light-heavyweight champion Artur Beterbiev a jovial fellow, or even a man with a sense of humour, there can be no denying that he is having fun, both in the ring punching and whenever asked by someone for his opinion.
When, for example, he called himself “slow” as a result of something Anthony Yarde said before fighting him, he did so with a glint in his eye and his tongue in his cheek. Similarly, when, following a brutal seventh-round stoppage of Callum Smith, he called himself “lucky”, there was a sense he was playing with his audience, touching on both the ease with which he wins fights these days – now 20 in a row, all by stoppage – and the talk and accusations he had been hearing during fight week.
Indeed, if Beterbiev wasn’t being dragged into a non-starter of a performance-enhancing drug story, he was having to hear talk of Smith, his opponent, being not only younger than him but bigger and stronger and more deadly with one punch. Though of course he is mature enough to deal with this, there was still a sense in his performance against Smith, as well as in his post-fight interview, that Beterbiev had this week been irked by something or someone. If in the end all this did was motivate him to prove a point and be even more merciless than usual, consider it an effective ploy; consider it, too, a warning to future opponents.
For there can be no doubt Beterbiev was keen to get things over and done with quickly in Quebec City last night (January 13). A slow starter usually, there was little sign of this against Smith, with Beterbiev out the blocks fast and eager to get down to business and make a dent in the challenger, perhaps to deter him and steal from him any ambition he had going in. Chances are, he would have seen Smith shrink beneath the pressure and expectancy of a previous big fight – namely, against Canelo Alvarez in 2022 – and sought to put him on the back foot and have him questioning himself from the off. If the case, it was a good tactic, too, for Beterbiev immediately had Smith retreating and therefore doing nothing with his height and longer arms. Soon, in fact, Smith was fighting small – never a good thing against a swarmer like Beterbiev – and was struggling to generate leverage for his shots, whether thrown up close or at mid-range.
There, at mid-range, it was all Beterbiev, his punches shorter and crisper and seemingly heavier. His jab, a standout, was a constant menace for Smith and would time and time again penetrate with surprising speed when he least expected it, while his combinations, although basic in execution, were wonderfully effective throughout.
Often, Smith would load up counter shots of his own, particularly the left hook, but they would appear to have no real impact on Beterbiev. Sometimes, too, it appeared as though Beterbiev’s arms were made of metal, meaning every shot was hard even when the throwing of it looked effortless, whereas Smith’s arms, in contrast, were hollow, any power reduced significantly by the desperation to make them count.
Artur Beterbiev nails Callum Smith with a jab (Getty Images)
That, it could be argued, was the key difference here. Moreover, there is a feeling with Beterbiev now that his composure and aura in the ring is as much of an issue for opponents as what he lands. To share a ring with him, after all, is to become the perceived next knockout victim and there is always a creeping inevitability about Beterbiev fights these days, which surely only adds to the suffocation an opponent experiences. With Smith, for instance, an already small ring was soon made even smaller by virtue of both Beterbiev’s ability to cut it off, as well as Smith’s own fears and anxiety.
Without any sort of success, it became hard for Smith to find any light, much less room to breathe. In fact, only an excellent uppercut in round four, in addition to occasional left hooks to the body, could be considered successes as far as Smith was concerned. The rest of it was all Beterbiev. The jabs, the right hands, the nonstop combination punching.
By the fourth, Smith was red around the face, with swelling above both eyes, and he was also developing an unwelcome habit of spending too much time on the ropes. There, of course, he would often find Beterbiev invigorated by the sight, pumping his arms out, one after the other, determined to catch the Briton with something, knowing even something, such is his power and strength, would deplete him. He was right as well. There would always be one shot, whether a left or a right, which would stagger Smith during a combination, or simply have him think twice about returning fire, and it was at that point Beterbiev, rather than stand off and admire his work, would savagely do more of it; increasing both the tempo and urgency.
There is, with Beterbiev, an unusual punching rhythm, too, which most opponents struggle to comprehend when in the heat of battle with him. No fan of the simple one-two, the Russian will sacrifice the big photo finish, of which someone like Callum Smith is now a master, to focus instead on the accumulative effect of his punches. This means that while some opponents will believe that loading up and hoping to strike lucky with one Hail Mary shot is the way to beat Beterbiev, Beterbiev himself sticks with the belief that the last thing a fighter wants to experience is a heavy-handed stalker who never lets up.
That is something Beterbiev, now 20-0 (20), does better than anyone in boxing today. Rarely, in fact, will he stop at three or four punches, knowing that to stop at that moment is the expectation; knowing that the fifth, and sixth, and seventh are the ones more likely, given the surprise element, to cause irreparable damage.
This Smith, 29-2 (21), found out the hard way in Canada. He could feel it building, no doubt, just as he could feel the ring shrinking, but still he had no answer for Beterbiev when the punches just never stopped coming in round seven. An inevitability by then, that was the round Beterbiev smelled blood and the round he was adamant would be Smith’s last. Sure of it, he punched the Liverpudlian until his legs betrayed him and then continued punching until he was on the canvas for the first time in his career.
The fight, in truth, could have been stopped then. However, it was to Smith’s credit that he beat the count and prepared himself for more – which he got, of course, Beterbiev now never more certain of how and when this fight would end.
A corner intervention, thankfully, spared Smith any more punishment following a second knockdown and now, with the fight stopped, both fighters could be seen on their knees; Smith exhausted, and gutted, and perhaps relieved it was over, whereas Beterbiev cut a figure similarly relieved but also nourished, well-fed. This, after all, is not only how the 38-year-old wins fights but it is also how he prefers to see opponents at the conclusion of them: beaten, broken, finally understanding. He will joke that it is “luck” because humour and violence make for an uncomfortable marriage, yet anyone who shares the ring with Beterbiev will know that “luck” has nothing to do with it. The truth, just as uncomfortable, is this: it’s something else.
Artur Beterbiev & Bob Arum (Via Top Rank)